Warped
Tap tap tattap The High Priest was tapping his fingers on his desk... this was not a good sign. Tap tap tattap The 3-meter tetraneutronium armor-clad giant of a man was sat on an infinitely smaller version of his osmium throne that nonetheless stood at almost twice the height of a common man. Tap tap tattap He wore an expression of boredom the likes of which no sane being would attempt to disturb. He was waiting. Waiting for something? Waiting for someone? Whatever it was, it was not able to be delivered as fast as he wanted it to be. Remember that this is the man who has anyone who fails to get him something he asks on time and beyond his tolerance of exactly 35.106 seconds punished in beyond unpleasant ways. Tap tap tattap He raised his head as the doors at the front of his court opened. A swaying feminine form revealed itself from the darkness of the outside hall that his majesty was sure had all of the lamps in it lit when he walked in. The woman approached him. A buxom-within-the-limits-of-physical-law young redhead with a well defined figure, clad in very light clothing revealing a decent bit of her snow-white skin. "You're late." he said in that deep, booming voice that reverberated intensely. One would have thought his vocal cords would have needed to be a mile and half long to achieve that, but this was Sluggunre Fahan. "My deepest apologies, m'lord-" said the woman rapidly in an Oxford-ish accent. She brushed hairs out of her face to reveal a picturesque visage, eyes a deep purple shade behind half-moon glasses, thin lips, a cleopatra nose... but Fahan didn't notice that as he was too busy looking a bit lower down, as per usual. "Tardiness, madame roe is very displeasing." said the priest, cutting her off. He then whispered to himself in what was as close to a normal voice as possible: "Heh heh, that's what she said." Roe... Cloee Roe had heard what he had said, but brushed it off. She had had plenty of experience with male, female, alien, artificial and even inanimate beings pinching her ass and committing other forms of sexual harassment, and was well aware of the High Priest's reputation. He had even got images from her last full-scale physical that she was sure he'd manage to use against her in more ways than one should he feel the need for it. "M'lord, do accept my apology." she said, coldly. "My escort turned out to be somewhat of a pestilent time waster." "In other words, he was a pervert who tried to grab your breasts and you castrated him with your bare hands in response." was the flat reply Fahan gave, straightening his back as he sat up in his thrown. "To put it bluntly, sir, yes." said Cloee, readjusting her glasses and then her shirt to conceal her cleavage, bringing a small frown to Fahan's face. "And I would ask your highness to dress me as miss Roe." "Miss Roe," conceded the Priest. "This is your first day, but you are going to be joining me on a matter I generally reserve for my more trusted misstr-I mean, assistants." "M'Lord?" she asked with an air of disinterest. "Our diplomatic envoy from the Pschaen is arriving later today." Cloee was torn out of her own little world and brought back into reality with a start. She was well aware of the folk tales surrounding the Pschaen: otherwordly demons, child-eaters, nightmare stalkers... all tales designed to scare little children by telling them they'd be taken away if they misbehaved only to find out later that they were real and probably would take them away if it so suited them. Yes, they could do that. And the nightmare and dream stalking, though that often was quite expensive. She herself wasn't particularly "fearful" per say, rather she couldn't help but recall her xenophobic upbringing, commonplace among humble households. "Yes, m'lord. Who might this envoy be." "Good ol' King Squidface, the Nutjob himself." "... My lord?..." "You'll find out soon enough, miss Roe. In the meantime, a ragtag group of "freedom fighters" have started causing a ruckus in the outer city limits of Seingolaf. I'm sending you to see to their defeat and arrest. "My lord, there have been no reports of-" "That's 'cause it hasn't happened yet, genius." he deadpanned. "Sir, as... magnificent as you are, it seems the many songs, stories and other propa-I mean praisefull... material regarding you have never mentioned you had your ability to see the future..." "I regret," he said, relaxing his posture and bridging his fingers. "that cannot be attributed to me. But I do have a reliable source." "Very well, m'lord, I'll see to it immediately." said Cloee, turning to leave muttering to herself. Sluggunre picked this moment to contemplate her physique before straightening up and gesturing to a vaguely humanoid shape beside him. Cloee, not wanting to dwell on the conversation, felt a drop in temperature as a hiss came from behind her. Looking backwards, she saw a vivid green and brown mass "walk" over to Fahan. A Chirnan? Common household servants but this one didn't look very strong or frankly imposing, as they usually are. "Gaijon Kapharsys will accompany you." said Fahan, watching Cloee's gaze go from "Kapharsys" to him and back to the Chirnan, seeing a bit of scepticism cross her face. He glanced back to the alien, before Cloee spoke and put on a smirk, prompting Kapharsys to lock gazes with her for whatever reason his master wanted. "Sir, I hardly think Mr... Kapharsys, here will be able to do much-" Cloee found herself cut off as her throat unexpectedly became locked in the grasp of a greenish-brown hand. She looked up and found Kapharsys' long muzzle and beaming yellow eyes. After a split second of processing, she came to a conclusion: he had crossed the distance between them quickly enough that she couldn't register it, despite looking directly at him, but had managed to cancel his inertia as to break or at least decelerate rapidly as to not let it throw him forward. Both feats were well beyond Chirnan, she was sure of this. Then it came to her again: Gaijon. "Pardon the Gaijon, Ms. Roe, he can sometimes be a little... unpredictable." Kapharsys released Cloee, dropping her to the floor grasping for breath. He turned back to Fahan, who gave him an approving nod. Cloee got up wearily, and straightened her hair back into place, picking her glasses off the floor and re-assuming a modest posture. Category:Stories Category:Unfinished stories